Warmth
by isabella2004
Summary: After the horror of the carbomb, Alex and Gene are alone in his office and Alex just wants to feel warm...Oneshot set during episode 1.8. GALEX! Rated M for content.


**Just a little something I found on my computer and thought I would share with you this Bank Holiday ;)**

Alex watched as Evan led her nine year old self through the CID squad room to the door and disappeared through it. If she closed her eyes, she could remember what that last walk felt like. Leaving behind the big room with the strange black and white ceiling and heading back out into the real, colourful world to begin the rest of her life. Her new life. But she didn't want to close her eyes. Didn't want to remember that feeling. It was something she had spent the last twenty-five years trying to forget.

From where she stood, leaning against the bookcase, she saw the flash of burgundy of her school uniform as she and her godfather walked round the corner and disappeared from view. For a long moment, she continued to stare at where her last sighting of them had been. So long in fact, that her eyes began to hurt.

"You sure you're ok?"

Gene's voice broke into her thoughts and she turned to look at where he stood leaning against the far wall. He was watching her, whisky glass in hand, and she could tell that, despite what he himself had seen that afternoon, his immediate concern was for her. After carrying her younger self to safety he had returned to where she remained on her knees on the ground in front of the flaming car and had gently helped her up, holding her to him as her legs threatened to give way under her, no doubt asking himself why she appeared so devastated at the deaths of two people she had barely known.

"I suppose," she replied unconvincingly and drained her glass. The hot liquid burned her throat and caused feeling to begin to return to her limbs, frozen after the horror of seeing the video that her father had made mere hours before. The video he thought would explain everything and yet explained nothing.

"'ow did you know?" His voice was low. "About the bomb. 'ow did you know?"

Alex knew he had been dying to ask her that question ever since the Prices' car had exploded in a fireball in front of them. All the way back to the station, a journey in which she had steadfastly refused to look at the child sitting next to Evan in the backseat, she had felt the waves of curiosity pouring out of him but, to his credit, he had remained silent until now. Until they were alone.

"Because I saw it…" she said quietly. "Because I remembered it." For all her memories, for all the nightmares of that horrific day, nothing had compared to seeing it the way she had seen it only a few hours ago. Watching the imperceptible look of understanding that passed between Layton and her father before the car was engulfed would haunt her even more than the actual explosion ever had.

A look of confusion passed over his face, "What?"

"I don't know," she said, louder this time, "I just had a…a feeling." She moved slowly over to where he had left the whisky decanter on his desk and poured herself another glass. "I thought I could stop it." She drained the measure in one and put the glass down on the desk. "I tried…so hard to stop it."

"Yeah well," Gene moved over towards her and refilled his own glass, "If there's one thing I've learned in all the years I've been doing this job, it's that if someone's determined to do something there isn't a whole lot you can do to stop 'em."

"You're right," she said, looking him in the eye, "I couldn't stop Layton. No-one could. Not here and not in the future."

"Not just Layton," he reminded her, though she scarcely needed it, "Tim Price an' all."

"Yes…" she breathed the word slowly before looking at him again, "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For destroying the tape. For sparing me…her… the truth. At least for a little while." Alex shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to generate some more heat. It was over, they were dead. Nothing had changed, not even the cold.

Gene stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the squad room, and she immediately felt warmed by the close proximity of his body. For a moment, she wished he would take her in his arms and hold her, banish the cold and keep her safe. "Wish I could say job well done," he said, breaking into her thoughts, "but Layton's still out there."

She nodded, "Still out there to hurt others. To hurt me…"

"Alex," he used her first name which automatically made her look up in surprise. "I would never let anyone…" he was interrupted when the door of his office opened and Ray stuck his head in.

"We're all going down to the bar for a few drinks, Guv. You coming?" His gaze flitted to Alex. "Ma'am?"

"Eh…yeah, yeah. We'll…uh…we'll be right there." Gene replied. Ray hesitated. "What are you waiting for Raymondo? Written orders?"

"No Guv," Ray said, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

"We don't 'ave to go," Gene said, turning his attention back to her again. "Can stay 'ere if you want."

She looked out through the glass of his office to the slowly emptying room. One by one everyone filed out, slightly sombre at what had happened that afternoon. Eventually, the door swung shut behind Chris and they were completely alone. In that moment, the room looked even more frightening and strange than it had done when she had first arrived all those months ago, and even more frightening than it had been the very first time she had ever been in it. Twenty-five years ago. Or five minutes ago, depending on how she chose to look at it.

"Drake?" His voice was soft.

She met his gaze again and found she couldn't tear away from it. "Gene…" Then the tears started again, the ones she had tried so hard to suppress, and they wouldn't stop. They coursed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin and after them came the deep, rending sobs. With only the two of them there, they sounded louder, echoing around them, deafening her so that she couldn't hear him beg her to stop.

Before she knew what had happened, she was in his arms, her face pressed against the shoulder of his suit jacket, her tears pooling into the fabric. He held her tightly to him, one arm securely around her back, his other hand gently stroking the back of her neck, his fingers sporadically brushing against her curls. She could hear the whisper of his voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, pulling back slightly, embarrassed at her lack of control. The control she had fought so hard to maintain. "I'm so sorry…"

"It's ok," he replied.

"No, no it isn't," she insisted, wiping her hands viciously over her eyes, causing her mascara to streak across her face and her hands. "I'm supposed to be in _control…_"

"You keep saying that Bolly, but sometimes…"

"No!" she said sharply. "I _have_ to be in control. Don't you see? It's the only way I can get home…" She broke off, feeling her lower lip tremble again. "I…I just…"

Suddenly, Gene cupped her face in his hands and smoothed her cheeks with his thumbs, "You don't 'ave to be in control all the time, Bolls," he said softly.

"Yes I do…" she tried to protest, but she could feel her body, once so cold, warming at his touch.

"No," he insisted, "sometimes…sometimes you 'ave to accept that you can't be in control of everything and everyone. You weren't in control of what Layton did, or what Tim Price did…" he swallowed hard, "or what I'm about to do."

"What are you…?" she was prevented from finishing her question by the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers and suddenly she was falling again, like in her nightmares. Her instinct told her to fight. Fight against this man whom she had disliked and disagreed with most of the time she had been at Fenchurch East and who was now claiming what he had obviously coveted from the day she stumbled into his life and yet…she found that she didn't want to. Instead, she wanted him to keep kissing her, keep holding her and never stop. Falling this time felt sweeter and safer than it ever had in any of her nightmares.

Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue to slide slowly between her teeth and meet her own. Slipping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer to her, taking back the control, her own kiss more demanding of him than his had ever been of her.

His hands moved down her body from the back of her neck down over her shoulders and arms to the gentle inward curve of her waist, over her buttocks and then one, adventurous hand, made its way around over her stomach and up to cup the closest breast. Groaning appreciatively, she pressed herself closer to him and gasped against his mouth as, in the space of a few seconds, he had pulled her top out from the waistband of her jeans and drawn it over her head, tossing it casually onto the floor.

"Gene…" she breathed his name as his mouth found the crease of her neck and her fingers instinctively found the button on his trousers. It slipped easily out of its hole, the scratch of the metal zip sounding so loud to her ears as did the rush of the fabric as the garment fell to the floor. Then he was filling her hand, full and warm and desperate.

"Oh Lord…" she heard him say, the same way he had all those weeks ago in the vault. Yet, this time, the call was more one of thanks than of desperation. Then he was pulling her closer to him again and her jeans were sliding down her thighs to bunch at her ankles.

Tripping over their clothes, they stumbled backwards towards his desk, papers, pens and other items flying onto the floor as Alex swept her hand across it, making space for the inevitable. He pushed her up onto the desk where she parted her thighs so he could slide between them and threw her head back. Placing her hands behind her on either side of the desk, she arched towards him, crying out as he pulled the silk fabric of her bra from her chest, exposing her breasts to him, and bit down mercilessly on one peaked nipple.

"Yes…" she groaned, "Oh…God…yes…" She shook as he fingered the top of her panties and then slid them from her. His right hand slipped under her bottom, pulling her further towards the edge of the desk, and she unashamedly spread her legs wider, allowing his thumb to graze across her most sensitive spot, sending shockwaves throughout her entire body. Then he was inside her and warmth flooded her. As she closed her eyes and returned his frantic kiss, the icicles seemed to fall away, the images seemed to fall away, the past cold winter seemed to fall away. Her parents, Layton, the bomb, the clown…they all grew more and more distant in her mind as he moved inside her, replaced with what could only be described as the rich colours of summer, reds and yellows and oranges which danced behind her eyelids and would have blinded her had she opened them.

Every one of her senses was flooded by him. It was as though she had found the thing she had been seeking for all those past months. As though it hadn't been about stopping the bomb and saving her parents. As though it had been about this. This moment. _This _moment of unbridled passion with _this_ man.

His thrusts grew more urgent and she could hear the squeaking of the table legs as they started to move out of place over the linoleum. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to hold on for as long as possible, terrified that once it was over, all the horrible memories would be back and she would be cold again.

"Alex…" he groaned.

"Don't stop…" she begged. "Please don't stop…"

"Going to 'ave to….at some point..." he replied breathlessly, "not as young…as I used to be…Jesus Christ..!"

Faster and faster, harder and harder, to the point where Alex couldn't stop herself and she herself broke the spell, coming around him, clamping down hard, letting out a primitive guttural cry which bounced off the glass walls. Seconds later he followed her, spurting uncontrollably inside her and making her think, for just a second, about their lack of safe sex. The thought was only fleeting. She didn't want to break away from him. couldn't bear it in fact, so therefore clung to him as their bodies slowed. She felt damp, sticky, wet and yet not unpleasant. Most importantly, she felt warm.

"Bloody 'ell…" Gene said, fighting to catch his breath. "If someone 'ad told me six months ago that you and me would be screwing like rabbits on my desk…"

"I know," Alex replied, her face still buried in his neck. "I wouldn't have believed it either." She pulled back and looked at him. "Was it worth it?" It was a question she wanted to ask herself and yet already knew the answer.

He met her gaze, his eyes soft. "What do you think?" He pushed her damp curls back from her face and kissed her, gently this time, with more than a hint of a promise.

"I think I'm very glad it was you," she replied when they broke away.

"Yeah well, who else were you going to screw on my desk?" he asked, pulling slowly out of her.

"That's not what I meant," she replied, uncurling her legs from around his waist and causing him to frown slightly, "but it doesn't matter. I'm still in control."

"Oh you think so, do you?" Gene asked, "I think you'll find I was in control there, Bolly."

"And I'm still warm," she continued, ignoring him. "And that's what's important."

"No Bolly," he shook his head, "what's important is that I've just been inside of you and yet I still don't know."

"Know what?" she asked, bracing herself for a thousand unanswerable questions.

His gaze flickered down to her chest, "Whether you're a C or a D cup."

Alex grinned and pulled him to her again, happy and warm. "Then I insist that you spend plenty of time trying to find out."


End file.
